See What's Become of Me
by NiceIceEdward
Summary: High School can be left behind, but it's rarely forgotten. Steff tried to forget it, Blane held on to those days, because he could never get past them. Andie moved on. None of them have seen each other since, not until a reunion of the present and past.
1. Chapter 1

He jogged every morning, through the undulating mist that blanketed the suburban, provincial style neighborhood. He jogged between manicured lawns and city maintained curbs. The strip of sidewalk he crossed before he reached the asphalt path through the park, was untarnished by idly tossed trash, litter or cracks. His was an affluent neighborhood. Every time his foot left the ground he considered it a subdued jump for joy.

His whole person oozed the privileged existence he lived. The exceptionally fit body which pumped him across the concrete reflected the generally healthy state of his lifestyle. Attractive CEO, gorgeous trophy wife, his was the perfect family picture. His modes of transportation were suited to his every whim; The Land Rover for when he was active, the Ducati for when he was possessed of a rebellious whim. There was also the M3. He had genuinely never let go of his high school affinity with Bavarian Motor Works.

Even his clothes reflected his position, though he wore only running gear. It had the carefully planned "casual" look to it; all the right symbols and logos, iconography for a generation. This too had been a high school fixation, that being a time where a name could raise the price of nothing into an expensive something.

He jogged through the curtain of haze that had settled over the community, entering the park in the assumption that life would continue to be without peril or confusion. He had done well in convincing himself for over twenty years that life was as it should be. He had all he deserved and more, and nothing could take away his sense of entitlement. Nothing ever had, well, there was the girl.

The steady rhythm of his exercise faltered for a moment. Thoughts of the girl always made him falter. He stopped and bent over to rest his hands on his knees, exhaling heavily from his rigorous activity. He shook his head, inhaled deeply, and stood straight again. He stretched himself, arms out, pulling his arms forward at the wrist to loosen his shoulder joints.

Thoughts of the girl occurred occasionally to him. He allowed them no more time than the subconscious allows a fleeting glimpse of horror into a beautiful dream. Even now, he took up his run again, a little more energy thrown into it; a little extra speed motivating his travel.

He followed his usual track, three times around the park and along the canal, then retraced his steps back to his home. He ran up the driveway and through the door under the carport. He grabbed the sweat cloth off the hook by the door, conveniently left there by his wife, Michelle. Michelle was a trophy wife, literally, he'd won her. It had cost him assorted bundles of cash, but when he had envisioned the perfect wife, he had seen Michelle.

As he scrubbed the towel across his dripping head, her voice came through from another room of the house. With all the mismatched doorways of his very modern home, the direction her voice came from was nearly impossible to locate.

"Steff, are you logging on before your shower? I wanted to order a few things before we start getting ready."

Shopping, the only thing she loved more than her inflated bank account. "Yes, I need to check Email before I head into the office."

"I thought you weren't going in today. You need time to get ready." Michelle called.

"I never said that. I don't need time, it's a reunion. I'm not wasting valuable minutes on the decaying wreckage, who will be vainly searching out their lost youth at this pathetic event."

"You've been looking forward to seeing your friend again, admit it." Michelle said, as she entered the room through the opposing door.

"Yes, this is true. I have been looking forward to seeing him again." Steff responded, as he turned towards the stairs, up which his computer waited in his functionally perfect home office.

"What was his name again, honey? Bryce, Brad, something...Bri-"

As she asked, a face floated into the view of his mind's eye and stopped him at the foot of the stairs. He saw a young impetuous boy, with a fluff of strawberry absurdness floating at his arm, on the edge of a dance floor. A few bars of a long forgotten song wafted through his memory and his carelessly placed hand squeezed tightly on the bannister. He cut her off, "Blane, Blane McDonough."

The verdant blanket of grass across the yard declined slightly at the starkly shaped edges where the deep brown of richly fed soil held the trunks of several fruit bearing trees. The yard was large for the neighborhood of high end tract housing that Tonapah Hills claimed to not to be. The house behind him was a lightly toned shade of salmon pink with purple-grey slate roof tiles, which made him think of a thick skinned marine animal. The home of his ex-wife had such sharp cut lines, it reminded him of a slaughtered whale.

The effect on him may likely have been latent feelings caused by his personal slaughter in the divorce. His heart bled out for the two boys who frolicked around the brightly colored playground set. Kenyon, aged 4 and Cameron, aged 7 had been infant and toddler respectively when Kristina had come to him with the last words he'd expected from their shiningly brilliant marriage; "I am not happy, and I want a divorce." He and Kristina had waited nearly ten years to have Cam, and he still hadn't been ready really.

When he asked her why she wanted a divorce, she'd said one word. It wasn't a bad word, there was no malice in her voice when she said it, and it wasn't cruel in itself. The connotations of the word were bad though, it wasn't an ugly word. In his opinion, it was a beautiful word, or to be correct, a beautiful name. Kristina had answered, "Andie."

He and Andie had walked away from their senior year hopeful, excited and ready to battle anything. They'd already gone up against their own fears. He loved Andie in a way that was no idle high school sweetheart love. Nothing could part them, so he'd thought.

Andie was strong, he wasn't. When his parents warned him not to see her, he'd been strong. When they'd refused to give him any money, he'd worked for the summer so they could go out and do things together. When August came, his parents and Grandparents put their partnered feet down. He would go to an Ivy League university, or he was on his own. When his inheritance and future were threatened, he'd folded like the coward he now knew himself to be. Andie hadn't cried, or yelled at him. She'd simply looked into his eyes and right through to his soul, then turned and walked away and out of his life.

Cambridge had been a blur until the day Kristina happened into the bar he was drowning himself in. She swept him out of his focused concentration on course work, and the downward spiral of his cluttered thoughts, and pulled him into the sunshine. By the time he'd graduated, they were engaged. Nothing held him back, nothing stopped him.

One guest at the wedding gave him his only moment of doubt; "Blane, I think you've chosen a perfect girl. I mean she's beautiful, bright and everything you deserve and need. I simply see it as the first chapter in a tragedy, because it's a damn shame that she isn't the girl you really want, and you will destroy it." Steff had spoken those words in the quiet of Blane's fathers' study, his new wife Michelle stood by his side saying nothing, but berating him silently with her eyes. He'd denied it then, but he couldn't deny it now. Steff had been absolutely right. And Blane had truly devastated the marriage. You can't give something away to anyone when it belongs to someone else, most particularly, your heart.

He watched as Keny reached the top of the climbing wall on the playground set. He watched in a daze of old memories as Cam climbed up the first few grips on the wall and grabbed his brother's foot and began pulling. There was a sliding sound to his left, and a voice called out over his left shoulder.

"Cam, don't pull on Keny's foot, unless you plan on breaking his fall for him. You can you come in now if you can't behave." Kristina called from the kitchen window. The window began sliding shut, then suddenly slid open again. "Blane?" she inquired.

Blane stood up, and turned around to look in the window at her. "Hi Kris, I'm sorry, I just missed the guys, I hope you don't mind." His discomfort was apparent in the way he shifted his weight and tugged here and there to straighten his clothing.

"You could have called." now over her initial surprise, Kristina looked mildly annoyed at his presence. "You should have."

"I would have if it had been a conscious decision. I was driving home from work, and I just sort of...ended up...here." he finished with a stutter.

Kristina exhaled, and looked down with a very slight shake of her head. "It wasn't where you really wanted to go, but they'll be glad this is where you decided to come."

Blane opened his mouth to argue, but as usual, realized he didn't have any defense. Instead he just turned around again, and resumed his seat. About this time, the boys realized their Dad was over and ran toward him.

"Dad" Cam called, while Keny followed with the less formal, but more heart warming; "Daddy!"

The boys ran across the grassy lawn to the concrete patio area where their father waited. He knelt onto one knee in preparation for the hugs that were quickly approaching, wearing the smile that belongs to fathers when they look at their sons. A sliding glass door opened as he embraced both boys at once. The exclamations of joy and surprise from his sons momentarily drowned out the tinkling sound of ice cubes dancing inside a glass container.

As he kindly evaded direct answers to his sons simple questions about why he was there, he turned his head to see what Kristina had brought out.

It was a tray of lemonade, finger foods and a large bunch of green grapes. Blane's joy-filled heart was brought back to reality by his sons equally exuberant response to the snacks their Mom carried.

As Kristina poured each boy a glass of lemonade, and finally one for Blane as well, he stood staring off into space. He held the glass in his hand carelessly, his eyes focused on a long past memory. Kristina watched his glazed expression for a moment before frowning and saying;

"What time will it start?"

He drew his attention away from the bright white clouds on which he'd been focusing. "Hmm?" He replied.

"I said, what time will it start?" she repeated.

"What time will what start?" he answered in confusion.

"I know you, Blane. You love your kids, but they don't bring you here randomly. You're worried about something, and I'm fairly sure I know what it is. So, what time does the reunion start?" she asked.

"Oh, that, well..." Blane shifted his weight and ran his hand through his short cropped hair, "dinner's served at seven. Cocktails start at 5:30."

"You should go." Kristina said, pulling a string off his shirt.

"I don't know, I can't think of any reason I should." he said, frowning darkly at the hose he was rolling under his foot.

"Blane, you know exactly the reason you should go. You also know why you came by here, so I would remind you of that reason. Seeing me reminds you of the one you do want and-"

Blane cut her off, "No, that's not why I-"

Kristina cut in on him in return, "You don't know yourself as well as I do, and you know it. Do you want her to think of you as the same coward you were twenty years ago?" she answered as she opened the last package of string cheese for Keny, who took it and ran headlong for the playground again.

Blane stood regarding her with a slight smirk on his face. "It's frightening you know, no one should be this transparent."

She chuckled softly, "You're not transparent, Blane. I just...I know you too damned well not to see you for what you are. I also happen to be smart enough not to be offended by it the way she was, or I'm not strong enough to be." she said, looking out across the yard.

Blane stood with his hands in his pockets, but as she spoke the last words, he pulled them out and raised his arms to reach out to Kristina. She saw what he was doing and stopped him cold with a look.

"You have to do this. You have to either lay this to rest, or you need to go after what you've always wanted. Even your Mother says you're a shell of who you once were. Your cousin Whitney said 'Blane, he used to have a twinkle in his eye. He rarely looked serious, and he seemed to always be on the verge of getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. When he lost Andie, he lost that twinkle. Now his eyes are just haunted.' She actually said she wished I could have met you then, as if I'd have had any better chance then, than I did four years later. Blane, go...go to your reunion and find your...self-respect." she laid her hand on his chest as she spoke the last words, and they both knew that her gesture was more indicative of what she meant than her words were.

He covered her hand with his own, "On our wedding day, Steff said you were everything I deserved. He was wrong, I never deserved you, few could."

She smiled playfully and softened the act of pulling her hand out from under his, by saying in a joking tone, "You're finally getting wise in your old age."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

The table was covered with layers of drawings. Sketches of pieces and full ensembles of beautifully designed clothing. The designs bore a mark of class, distinctly above gauche. She was reputed to be_"hovering within the untouchable realm between D&G and Chanel. Classic styles with a marked hint of the girl within."_ Her style had always been her own.

The drawings were being unceremoniously lifted, shifted and then left in a state of bothered disarray by the beautiful red head who alternately moaned and spoke to herself.

"It was just here, dammit! What did I do with it."

Every day and night had been spent working on her fall line. Her A.W. Jackson label was comparatively small in the world of big fashion, but her shows always received good reviews, and she had made enough to allow her Father to spend his last years as a man of leisure. She'd never troubled him with the confused and complicated proceedings leading to the financing of her opening for business. Both of them knew he was aware of where it had come from, but a silent understanding kept them from speaking openly about it.

The door to her suite opened behind her. Assuming it was her assistant, she spoke to her without looking around;

"Iona, did you grab the Fall journal before you left?"

The voice which answered her was not only different from the one she'd been expecting, it was also distantly familiar.

"If I had, you'd be the last person I'd return it to. No amount of begging or flattery would be enough to get it-" he was cut off by way of her petite body forcing him backwards out the door he'd just entered, as she threw her arms around his neck. He laughed boisterously and wrapped her in a heartfelt embrace.

"Duckie, thank God! Its nothing less than fabulous that you're here. Let me take a look at you." she stepped back and looked him over head to toe. Seeing his choice of footwear, she crooked one eyebrow at him and asked, "Creepers?"

"I had to bring the Duckster with me, so I wore the shoes, but I go by Phil now. These are actually my 15 year old sons." he grinned infectiously, and seeing the twinkle in her eye, he leaned forward to hug her again. "It's amazing to see you, and you, are radiant."

They shared another wide grin, and then chuckled, "You still have Iona with you?" the door behind him opened as he asked this, and Andie's oldest friend walked in, "You bet your ass, sweetheart. Give this old girl a hug, it's good to see you."

After a tight hug, Phil leaned back, "You are looking lovely, Iona, but I'm afraid Andie still has you beat."

Andie rolled her eyes, "You haven't changed a bit."

Duckie laughed, "I don't know, there's a little bit more of me, and a little less hair." he said, taking off the hat he wore.

"Yes, but your style is still as unique as ever." she retorted, inclining her head towards his outfit.

Iona sighed, and then moaned whimsically. They both looked at her, and she reached out to squeeze both their arms. "It does me good to see the two of you chatting away like a century hasn't passed. Makes me feel young again."

Andie rolled her eyes and and shot a mock indignant look at Duckie for his benefit. "You are young, Iona. You've just been being young for longer than most people."

Iona cast a tauntingly mischievous look at her friend and boss, and replied, "Asses shouldn't be smart, it impedes their purpose."

Looking mildly lost, Duckie looked questioningly at Andie, "That's Iona's way of calling me a dumb ass. It's a farce, Iona despairs of all talk of asses in general because she's still mourning the loss of her own."

Iona gasped and pointed at her hips, "It's true, I've said it before, I had a great butt. Now though, whereas it used to sit happily just below the lower meridian, it's gone all Antarctic now." she finished, waving her hands dismissively.

Andie and Duckie both laughed, and Duckie said, "Well, Canada's still gorgeous, Iona."

"Bless your heart, little Duck man. I should have stolen you when I had the chance for 5 minutes." she smirked, then seeming to remember something, she hit herself on the forehead with her open palm, "OH! The fall journal, I left it downstairs, I'll be right back." she whisked through the doors fast enough to be a danger to anything on the other side of them.

As the door swung closed behind her, he turned back to Andie. "So, a fashion designer? I always knew you'd go on to greatness."

She chewed her lip a little in a way that nagged at old feelings he recalled from many summer's past. "Hmm? I don't know about _being _great, but I certainly do _feel _great. I love my job." she said by way of explanation.

"It shows, actually, I found out what you were doing through my wife. She came down one day dressed for a party in this gorgeous dress. I asked her where she'd gotten it, and admittedly, how much it cost, and she said, "It's an A.W. Jackson, she's not well known, but her designs are..." he ended there, without going on.

After several beats of pause, Andie couldn't wait any longer, "My designs are what?"

"I don't know exactly, my wife was speechless. Apparently, she couldn't come up with an adjective to describe how amazing your stuff is. Diane doesn't react that way to much, so I looked the designer up online. A.W.," he chuckled. "I should have known. Is the "Jackson" for your Dad?"

Andie had been smiling widely, but at the mention of her Dad something wistful entered her expression, and her eyes dulled slightly. She said, "Yes. He always thought I was ridiculous adding the Jackson in, but I know for a fact that it made him happy in the last years before he passed away." she smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Shaking it off quickly though, she continued, "Enough about me, what are you doing? Where are you working? Who's Diane? You said you had a son, are there other children? Will your wife be here tonight w-"

Phil held his hands up in a warding off gesture. "Whoa, whoa, Andie. Allow space to answer, before moving on to the next question. Olympic-level, linguistic-acrobat I am not." he laughed, and Andie giggled. It was a perfect moment to him.

"I'm sorry, go ahead, I'm just so excited to see you. Please, answer the questions."

"Let me see if I can remember all of those questions. Ok, first I think you asked what I'm doing, and where I'm working. I'll assume those are both basically the same question, the answer isn't interesting, but it pays the bills. I work for the Government."

Andie grinned again, "Get out! Are you a spy? God knows you were always on stake outs outside of my place when we were kids."

Blushing a little Phil laughed, "No, I'm DEFINITELY in a different department than that. I work for the Postal Service as a Mail Carrier." Phil slumped a little. "I know it's very dull, but it's given me excellent insurance benefits, a great retirement plan, and guaranteed vacation two weeks out of every year in the district I'm in."

"Duc-...Phil, it's great that you deliver mail. Do you walk, or ride your bike?" she said with a taunting tone.

"Cute, but no, I walk. Well...and drive." he rolled his eyes a little, "Now as for the next questions, about my family. I've been married to my wife Diane for about eighteen years. We have two sons; Kevin my fifteen year old, and Keith who just turned thirteen last month. Diane has been in Kansas for the last two months caring for her Father, and the boys are with her. She just lost him this past weekend. She's helping her family with the arrangements and getting his things in order. So basically, Diane won't be able to make it tonight.

Andie's ordinarily bright expression clouded, "I'm sorry Phil. That's horrible, your poor wife." she stood regarding him for a moment as he nodded in agreement and looked at his feet. "Hmm?..."

He raised his head and looked at her expectantly, in response to her questioning hum.

She quirked her eyebrow at him as something glinted in her eyes. "Is there such a thing as going stag...together?"

Amused, Phil replied, "I think there certainly should be. We'll start a trend."

Raising a stiff hand out and pointing at his feet. "You don't intend on wearing those..." she lifted her arm, "or _that_, do you? I might have to go alone if you are."

He laughed good naturedly, "No, I wanted to come and see you before I went up to get ready, shall I?" He asked, pointing awkwardly behind him at the door with both hands.

Andie checked her watch, she tilted her head as she lifted her eyes back to him. "Sure, I think I'd better start getting ready."

"See, that's just the sort of statement Diane makes that makes me very uncomfortable. I know when she specifies, "START" to get ready, it will likely be hours before I see her again, and the interim will be filled by a lot of secrets for beauty I will never be privy to..." he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Andie recognized the deep breath of someone who was only getting started on his monologue and called out to him.

"Phil," she said softly. Surprised, he opened his eyes immediately and waited. She continued, "The reunion?"

"Right, yes, I'll go. We'll meet in the lobby?"

She winked and pointed at him simultaneously as if to say "Right!", then turned and walked away as Phil turned to walk to the door. As she glided through the door to her room he stopped with a hand on the door and watched her. Phil loved Diane dearly and with all his soul, but something about Andie Walsh still made him feel like a gawky teenager, incapable of any form of grace.

***

Vaguely familiar faces were scattered around the foyer. The distant sound of the music from the time of her youth thumped rhythmically from the other room. There was a table outside of two sets of open double doors. It was from beyond these that the music wafted into the lobby. She stepped up to the table smiling at the two girls behind it. One of them was pretty, and youthful, only slightly aged. The other obviously spent a lot of money to preserve herself, but the years hadn't been entirely kind to her. The older one cut her eyes at Andie and grinned in a way that showed she was being polite, only for the benefit of those around her.

"Well, if it isn't Andie Walsh."

Taken aback, she momentarily stared blankly at her. She willed herself to recognize the woman, but wasn't having much luck. As the woman handed her a label with her printed name on it, and a black and white thumbnail of her high school portrait, Andie smiled a little sheepishly and said, "I'm sorry, I don't recall _your _name."

"Hello Carolyn," a voice over Andie's shoulder said. Catching the marked change in Carolyn's expression, Andie turned around and looked back, knowing who it was before she saw him with her eyes.

He looked almost the same. Tall, cold blue eyes, fair skin, and an identical expression of predicted disaster she'd seen on his face the last time they'd met. He wore an obviously expensive and beautiful Armani suit. The woman on his arm outclassed him by several levels. She was gorgeous and looked curiously, but kindly at Andie as her husband addressed her with a slight tilt of his hand.

"Andie."

"Steff." she replied in kind.

"Honey, this is Andie Walsh, she briefly dated Blane when we were kids. Andie, this is my wife, Michelle."

Michelle held out a well tanned right hand to Andie and warmly said, "Hello Andie, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Andie smiled genuinely at Michelle, "I'm very pleased to meet you. Your dress is beautiful, and you look lovely in it."

Steff looked slightly pale, as his wife replied. "Thank you, you do as well. I wonder that you didn't keep her out of Blane's reach by holding on to her yourself, honey."

Steff composed himself and smiled benignly, but didn't look away from Andie. "Ah yes, but you see, Andie only had eyes for Blane."

His expression returned to one of discomfort, and he seemed to drag his eyes away from her to look through the open doors. He turned to his wife, "Michelle, I think I see Lee Campbell, I'd like you to meet his wife Stacey. She's better company."

Michelle had the grace to look offended, "Steff, that's a horrible thing to say."

Andie felt her expression harden, and gritted her teeth as Steff responded to his wife's accusation. "What's horrible about saying that the wife of a friend would be better company for you than I could be?"

Michelle looked mildly abashed and giggled in embarrassment, "Oh! I thought you were...well, nevermind. Andie, will you please excuse us?"

Not able to accept the explanation as easily as his wife was, but liking Michelle despite her poor choice in men, Andie smiled at her. "Of course, it's very nice to meet you, Michelle."

"I hope we'll see you inside, Andie." she said genuinely, and with that, Michelle walked between Andie and her husband, and continued into the room. Steff meanwhile held Andie's eyes as he said, "That would be _amazing_." in a polite tone that dripped with a double meaning. He raised his eyebrows once at Andie and then turned in a way that said he'd wasted enough time talking to her. Shaking her head in disbelief, and chuckling, she turned around and walked into the restroom.

After finishing a make-up and dress check, Andie walked back into the foyer. She made her way just inside the doors of the banquet room, to see if Phil had come in while she'd been in the restroom. She stepped another few steps in trying to see past the milling faces, scanning the tables and around the room.

Andie fumbled her purse a little as she searched, and it fell to the floor. She knelt down to retrieve it, as two black shod male feet stepped into her view. The hem of the black dress pants above them had been tailored, but not well. It was hastily done, she could have done a much better job. She smiled assuming she knew who it was. She looked up as a hand came down to her as he spoke.

"Hi Andie." the voice said.

Her smile faltered. She was expecting Duckie...Phil, but this voice she'd have known anywhere. She switched her motion mid-rise and stood without assistance. She steeled her expression, doing her best not to allow herself to sound any different than she had with anyone else. _This _was not just anyone else.


End file.
